


All I Desire

by Jessamine_Winters



Series: Through The Mirror [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Consensual Sex, Dirty Talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, M/M, Male Pregnancy, Male Slash, Manipulation, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Mpreg, Oral Sex, Sexual Tension, Time Travel, Torture (Not in relationships), Violence, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:51:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessamine_Winters/pseuds/Jessamine_Winters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At age four, Draco found the Mirror of Erised, an object made by his great-grandmother to bring her heirs their desires while destroying anyone else who gazes into its depths by showing them maddening illusions, and wished for the Dark to rise once more. At age eleven, Draco meets his lord, age thirteen, through the mirror. Tom uses him to rise to power but ends up wanting more from Draco as they age... much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Boy In The Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> Currently being edited.
> 
> Update as of 8/18/2015: I was on hiatus for quite a while. One of my grandparents has had two heart attacks, another had breast cancer and is in remission, my grandpa has onset dementia, and I'm in the process of moving. I moved twice in the last year, and my anxiety and depression kicked up... so, I am sorry about how long it's been. However: grandpa is coping better, both my grandmas have had their surgeries, I'm in a better place with my mood, and I move into my own apartment in October. I also got a new computer, so I am able to update.
> 
> I noticed several errors in this fiction: grammatical, some misspelling, general clunkiness and run-ons. Also, the second chapter is being reworked. Both edits will be completed as of 8/18/2015.
> 
> I also don't update frequently or on a schedule. The only way to know when I update is to subscribe or bookmark.

Draco's POV:  
Tonight was the night. 

I felt something would change. I couldn’t explain nor shake the feeling, so at eleven at night, when everyone in my dorm had fallen asleep, I crept out of bed, knowing that I had to go, had to be there, because something wonderful would happen.

I crawled out of my bed, changing into black slacks, a white button down shirt, a plain emerald robe, a black cloak. I was letting it, whatever IT was, take over. I got my shoes on and walked out of the dorm, up the stairs to the common room entrance, and followed whatever was leading me to a room which held a mirror: ancient gold adorned the edges, the glass polished and shining. The pull, the force compelled me to move to it, and I felt powerless to disobey, and more than that, unwilling. Giddiness, excitement, and the promise of a long-awaited desire coming true gave me no choice but to gaze into it. I stood, looking into it, waiting, wondering, until I saw a boy enter the room and look into it and straight at me. He looked startled because instead of his own almost inhumanly gorgeous features, inky black hair, and almost neon blue eyes, he saw me.

“The Mirror of Erised is supposed to show the gazer their deepest desire, yet I see a boy. Beautiful, yes, but a boy… is this a representation of power, of immortality? … Or is Dumbledore’s theory about me right? Do I truly just desire a friend, or companion, acceptance, or even love?” The boy mused, studying me as intently as if he could figure it out if he just kept looking hard enough. “I thought my desire was obvious, that everything I did was for the purpose of achieving greatness, of renown, of glory…. but the mirror shows another thing entirely. While it can show a desire that may or may not be possible, it cannot show a desire that is nonexistent, or even slightly lesser than the foremost want of the one who gazes into it… so what, then, am I supposed to make of this, or how can I even hope to reach the answer?”

I knew to keep quiet until he was done with his musings, then let whoever was speaking for me talk to him. “What you see now is how you achieve power, the key to achieving everything you wish, and you are the way I will achieve what I want most. We both want power. My name is Draco Malfoy.”

He had frozen, completely shocked, when I started talking, but he listened closely.

“This doesn’t make any sense. This is the Mirror of Erised, but it cannot actually talk to a person-“

“Unless it is used by an heir of the creator. I am Nemesis Black’s great-grandson, on my mother’s side. The mirror was originally for revenge. Nemesis Black wasn’t the most beautiful woman because of her scars, three that lined her face because of her mother, and had been mocked for her appearance since childhood, so when the man she secretly desired had harassed her once, she decided that if she would waste away without ever achieving her deepest desire, so would he and all those vain and foolish enough to gaze into the Mirror of Erised’s depths. Then, after the man had died because he couldn’t part with the illusion, her youngest nephew also looked into the mirror and suffered the same fate, so she modified it so those she and her descendants loved, as well as their family, would instead be able to achieve their greatest wishes, and made the effects lesser for others, so only those that are truly vain or evil will waste away. You are extremely lucky that you are here because I need you, otherwise you might have fallen victim to this mirror.” I explained, the boy’s face showing horror in the beginning but at the end showed immense relief. 

“Thank you for that. I doubt I could have broken away had you not needed me. I’m not exactly good… far from it.” He told me.

“What makes you say that?” I asked curiously, and he hesitated. “I don’t even know your name or even what continent you’re on, so I clearly won’t be able to cause any damage to you if I say a word to anyone about you. Just tell me. I want to know.”

He gave me a long, piercing look, brows furrowed, gaze wary, his dark blue eyes locked on my silver, and I felt a probing sensation, like I was laid bare, vulnerable in his gaze, stripped of all secrets and masks. His eyes narrowed, brow furrowed as the probing sensation went on, until his eyes widened in shock, the mental probe disappearing. His lips parted into a slight gasp, and a manic smile lit up his face, before he forced his face back into a pureblood mask. Still, his lips quirked excitedly, eyes bright and no longer as wary, his tense posture relaxed. He casually used a series of spells to close, lock, and ward the door.  
“I’m only a few days into my first year, it’s past curfew, and I know that I have a high likelihood of getting caught, so can you please teach me the spells you just used?” I asked and he smiled.

He went over the instructions and twenty minutes later I had wards that would work. He sat down in front of the mirror on his end and I followed suit.

“You gave me your name, so I’ll give you mine. It’s Tom, Tom Riddle. I grew up in an orphanage in London, Muggle, even though I’m a wizard. Muggles absolutely detest magic, and when I showed I could use it, they hated me. They called me a freak, a monster, a demon, the spawn of Satan... they tried different ways to ‘beat the devil out of me.’ They tried exorcising me, and the priest caught fire. They tried beating me, and instead, their beatings were inflicted on them. The kids would gang up on me, until I got back at them and became feared. I’ve tortured, Draco. I made two children go insane. I’ve killed some in a fire that caught the orphanage, and another jumped off a cliff because I made her do it by magic, and another hung himself instead of face his fears. And I loved doing it.” Tom told me, tensed shoulders and a measuring look belying that he was afraid of how I'd react. I had no doubts that he meant it, that he committed those crimes, and yet, if they did all he said, they deserved what happened to them... 

“They deserved it. If they didn't I don’t hate you. I’m not disgusted by you. And I don’t fear you.” I told him.

He studied my face carefully to see if I was lying, his eyes meeting mine and I got the same feeling, the probing sensation, that he could see everything I ever thought, said, done, or wanted, then slowly, a brilliant smile lit up his face, making him look even more gorgeous than before.

“I can’t believe it… even my housemates fear me. I told them the same thing and I saw the terror in their eyes. Incredible.” He looked beyond thrilled, then paused and said hesitantly, “I want to get to know you. Maybe… maybe I could try to become your friend.”

“I’d like that.” I smile, and his smile widens. I decide to tease him slightly about how he acted: a bit nervous and hesitant, either afraid of rejection or afraid he’d make the wrong choice. Either was likely. “Of course, I’d like it more if you didn’t try and succeeded… shouldn’t be that hard, really.”

He laughs. “Fine. I will become your friend. Is that phrasing more suited to your taste?”

I noticed he sounded like my grandfather, with the way he spoke, but instead of finding it strange or boring, I liked it. It was what I was used to and thus was comforting to hear someone speak like that.

“Yes, that’s much better. Where do you go to school?” I ask.

“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I’m a third year Slytherin.” He tells me, and I pause, trying to remember him. It would be easy enough to miss him, because there were nearly a hundred students in Slytherin and I hadn’t even been there a week, but I thought I knew most third years.

“I’m a Slytherin as well.” I tell him and he studies me, clearly trying to remember seeing me.

“I don’t remember you, I’m afraid. How close are you to Abraxas, anyway? He should have mentioned a relative coming to Hogwarts.” Tom asks, and I blink.  
“Abraxas Malfoy died last year, at age sixty-four. The date was May 16th, 1990... I don’t know how he would have been able to warn you, and he’s the only Abraxas Malfoy you could have been talking about.” I’m completely confused.

“What? It’s only 1940. And I just saw him. He’s in my year, my dorm.” He looks angry.

“I know you can tell if I’m lying. Do so now.” I tell him, and he rolls his eyes but obliges me. His eyes widen in shock, but then he begins thinking.

“So the mirror somehow managed to bring us together despite time. It must be why I needed to find this mirror, and why you looked in it in time to save me. Have you seen this mirror before?” He asks.

“When I was four, during my father’s trial. He nearly went to Azkaban but managed to stay out. I was brought to the Black family home and babysat by Nemesis so I wouldn’t be near my mother, who was crying. Nemesis told me stories about the dark, about how we should have won, about what we would have been if we had, then let me explore her house, telling me not to go into the room of mirrors, so of course I got curious enough and when she left, I tried finding it. I wanted what she told me. I also had overheard mother cry about father having no hope of winning the trial, and I wanted him to win it. I saw my family in it then… and a ghost turn into a man with red eyes that scared me. I was four and ran from the room, crying because it was the scariest thing I ever saw. I ran into my father’s arms, who had come home, looking relieved.” I can tell Tom’s completely focused on the story. He looks away, then when he looks back, I see a smile.

“Who was your leader?” He asks.

“Lord Voldemort.” I tell him, trying not to show fear at the name.

He writes his name backwards with his wand so I could read it properly, then swishes his wand, and the letters rearrange themselves to I AM LORD VOLDEMORT. I stare in utter shock.

“The man who you saw with red eyes turn from a ghost to human was me. Nemesis Black used you to get me to rise again. She made you want that by telling you those stories. The timing for me to rise wasn’t right because you were too young to actually help me. Now you can, which is why you came back to the mirror to finish getting your desire. The Voldemort you know couldn’t be reached by the mirror, but I could because the mirror was here in 1940, which is why you’re talking to me instead of him. Somehow I’m better suited for this than him as well… this is brilliant.”

Tom looks thrilled as he pieces the information together to find an answer. “Swear you’ll help me.”

“I swear.” I tell him, and his smile was just as delighted as it was wicked. 

I was under the boy’s spell completely and I knew he knew it by the way he looked at me: a pleased smirk was on his lips, and the thrill of having absolute, complete control over someone was apparent in his eyes. 

He whispered something in Parseltongue, and I knew somehow exactly what he said.

Mine.


	2. Long Talks and Plots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ!  
> I am so sorry it took so long to update. I'm normally better about that, but my grandpa's cancer is back, and we think he may be getting Alzheimer's. I'm terrified of that. I work in a nursing home, and I know a bit about it. What I do know makes me panic.  
> WHAT THIS MEANS FOR THE STORY:  
> This story keeps me going, so I will not stop writing it. It just will be slow at least until we can convince him to get a firm diagnosis from a doctor. Our family has a history of that awful disease, so we have a good idea of symptoms, but getting several doctor's beliefs on the matter will either stop my worries, or really affect my family.  
> SO:  
> I may write quite a bit, nonstop for days or weeks, meaning long and fast updates. Writing is how I cope. If I'm really doing awful, I'll stop writing for months (like before). It varies.  
> Again, I am sorry, but my grandpas is one of the most important people in my life. Family takes priority.

Tom’s POV:

“There are some things you’ll need to know.” Draco tells me. “About your setback. Something happened when you attempted to kill a baby, Harry Potter, and you died as a result. You’ve killed many before, so it wasn’t your doing… I could observe him to figure out what happened that night. If I get close to him, I can figure out if it happened because of him. I’m certain I can find out from father why you went after him… that may be important as well, so you can try a new tactic if you need to, if his death is vital.”

I needed to know where I went wrong, to be so pathetic… a baby was the one who vanquished me?

“Was I truly that weak, to be defeated by a mere infant?” I ask, using Leglimency and marveling at how it easily worked through the mirror.

Draco, of course, had no way to answer without either lying or being completely uncouth, so he’s silent.

“I won’t hurt you for answering a question honestly, Draco.” I tell him when I figure out why he doesn’t say the obvious, then the mirror’s edges glow gold and my eyes widen in shock when I feel magic bind me to my word. So I couldn’t give him a promise that I wouldn’t keep… this would complicate things, because I was a liar and an actor to my core, but now had to tell the truth, while keeping him loyal. Not that I had acted or lied with him yet, and he was devoted to the real me… but we barely knew each other and people’s loyalties, especially Slytherins, were fickle. No one had fully accepted me, ever, and I knew no one could… so balancing this would be a delicate act needing effort and time.

“Yes, my lord.” Draco still looks fearful, and I give him a reassuring smile while I try to picture what kind of wizard I was, to make a little boy fear death or pain for honesty. People feared power… yet Draco had been able to ward a room, something I had struggled with for weeks before managing working ones, in a matter of minutes… clearly he wasn’t weak, and he seemed obsessed with power, so I had to have done something to him, or be in general a cruel leader, to instill fear in a young powerhouse. Until I found out where I went wrong, I wouldn’t change my behavior or how I’d act. I knew I’d survive, but I needed to take measures to do so.

“Tell me why you fear me.” I tell him.

“Not you… just your anger. I went into my father’s Pensieve, which had Death Eater meetings… Death Eaters are your followers, and my dad was you right hand man in the war. You weren’t exactly patient or caring to your followers, and the smallest of mistakes could result in torture. Disrespect and dishonesty were punishable by the Cruciatus and sometimes a painful death. I… I’m sorry, my lord-“

“Tom. Call me Tom.” I correct him, needing him to feel close to me and special, and clearly my name was never used by anyone else. First names were only used in pureblood cultures if they needed to be specific about who they’re talking to or about, and if they weren’t close, the last name accompanied it, or to indicate a strong friendship. Draco relaxed and seemed to be comfortable again. “What exactly happened that night?”

“It was the start of Samhain.” Draco explains. “A spy had revealed the Potter’s location to you. You viewed this as absolutely vital and put months of effort into finding them. You killed James Potter, the father, then went to the nursery, where Lily Evans-Potter was, holding Harry Potter. You killed her… Sev said you may have given her an option to save herself. You turned your wand on the Potter heir, used the curse, but it must have rebounded and it ripped you from your body. Dad said you put precautions in to make sure you live, and they must have kicked in.”

I chuckle, darkly. “It wasn’t the boy. Looks like the Light isn’t as pure as we thought… Lily sacrificed herself in a blood ritual to save her son. She gave up her magic as well to protect him, which is why neither fought me… they needed to die, and I fell for it. If I don’t kill the parents, I can kill the child… I’m sure I can find out the reason myself.”

I notice Draco’s excitement with curiosity.

“You look eager.” I note.

“Rituals are one of our family magic branches, on the Malfoy side. The Black family has creation, but that gift doesn’t happen with everyone… it’s why my grandparents decided on an alliance by marriage for our families. The branches fit well together. I’m just beginning my studies in rituals, now that I’m fluent in an ancient language used in basic ones and have a decent grasp on Arthimancy, and the thought of what I can do when I get more powerful always has the same reaction.” Draco explains.

“We’re a lot alike, Draco.” I observe. “Though you grew up with more privileges than me, it doesn’t seem to matter much.”

Draco’s eyes look haunted, and I knew something was wrong then. 

“You can tell me.” I pry when he doesn’t respond. 

“If we’re just speaking about money and status, and what that gets, then yes. But… my mother was cursed during the war with a spell that has been driving her mad for years.” Draco pauses and I understand, for the first time feeling sympathy for someone. Draco continues, “She thinks I’m the first child she murdered. That I’m haunting her… she hears voices telling her to kill me. She realizes who I am when I’m near death and heals me. Dad can’t send her away because they’d need to know how she was cursed, and that would send her to Azkaban because it was in battle. We can’t find a cure… my own mother doesn’t know me and wants me dead or tortured.”

Draco’s voice breaks, and he cries. I feel myself be pulled towards, then into the glowing mirror… I felt no pain, and there was no collusion. Seconds later, I was on the other side of the mirror, in the future, but instead of using it for my personal gain, I walk to Draco, who is shaking and sobbing uncontrollably, sit down, and pull him into my arms. 

I expected to feel revulsion, as usual, when I was forced to touch someone, but for the first time it felt pleasant, even though my shirt was getting soaked from his crying and he was clinging to me, something I never had put up with. I hold him tightly and murmur comforting words in his ear, and slowly, the crying stops. I use a drying spell on my shirt, but I don’t let go, not when I just found someone who I could touch and who didn’t remind me of him. Draco is clearly exhausted, and my eyes are tired too, and I look around, then sigh, not exactly willing to sleep on a wooden chair. A bed appears suddenly, and I decide not to look gift basilisks in the eyes, and guide Draco to the bed.

“Let’s get some sleep. I’m not sure how long I’ll be here, but I’m spent.” I tell him.

Draco obediently climbs onto the bed and I hesitate, but when another bed doesn’t appear, I move onto it and slip under the covers. 

When I wake, I feel better than I had in quite some time. Draco hadn’t kept to his side and was cuddled into me, and my arms were around him, and I didn’t mind it… it seemed this child seemed to get the oddest sort of reactions from me. Draco stirs, at first disorientated, then confused, then realization, shock, and finally, happiness appears on his face, something I smiled at. It was… different, to see a Malfoy or any Slytherin, for that matter, be so open with their feelings, but the honesty in his face was… nice.

“Good Morning.” I tell him, happy for once.

“Morning, my lord.” Draco says, and I smile at the stunned way he said it.

“It’s Tom. Friends use first names only, Draco.” I tell him, amused.

“Are you a morning person? Being this happy so early shouldn’t be legal.” Draco says, and I laugh.

“First, I’m not normally. I’m well-known for cursing whoever wakes me. And second, haven’t you noticed how happy you are? That’s like a manticore calling a basilisk deadly-“

Draco starts giggling then.

“Isn’t that a common expression?” I ask.

“Yes… but you’re probably Slytherin’s heir, and my coat of arms is a manticore.” Draco explains.

“The heir of Slytherin, yeah? I might want to look into that…” I try to be casual, but I can’t believe I hadn’t realized that. This could be how I garner respect from all of the Slytherins without resorting to violence and scare tactics, like in my year… I couldn’t believe how different the boy was from his grandfather. Abraxas needed to fear me to bow down to me and was, quite frankly, a coward by nature. He cowered beneath me without knowing what I was fully capable of, and I only told him stories that wouldn’t get me time in Azkaban, or expelled. Draco, on the other hand, knew better than me what I was capable of but wasn’t afraid of me exactly… my future self clearly terrified him, and that was natural because he knew I had attempted to kill a child and had seen many horrors I’ve committed in his father’s Pensieve, but he didn’t cower to this version of me. Instead, he seemed comfortable in my presence, and he accepted and liked me thus far, which made him able to freely tell me my own failures, weaknesses, and shortcomings… if he was weak and afraid, he wouldn’t dare to, and this would be a waste. And I liked the boy, while Abraxas was an annoyance.

“Do the Slytherins treat you well?” Draco asks suddenly, surprising me.  
“Why do you ask?” I ask instead of answering.  
“Your last name isn’t a common pureblood name, and you grew up with Muggles, so you wouldn’t fit in right away.” Draco says. I had to hand it to the boy... he was observant and intelligent.

“I’m not well-liked yet. I’m… I’m certain my father wasn’t a pureblood. I was named after Marvolo, my mother’s father, and she didn’t give tell anyone her name, so I don’t have much to go by or any big name to rely on.” I was hesitant, certain Draco would be disgusted.

“Then make your own. You may have lucked out, honestly.” Came Draco’s reply.

“How would I have lucked out?” I ask, incredulous.

“Well, I’m a Malfoy… my name is associated, at least now, with yours, and since you were temporarily absent, we lost the war… so the Light is still in control, and I’m hated by many families. I am Dark, but my name limits what I can do… since the war with Grindenwald ended, everyone who ever willingly associated with anyone dark, or who happens to be related closely to a member of the dark became non-citizens. Had father been convicted, I would have no rights here. You have to show your citizenship, or lack of, card in order to get a job, or a loan, or buy a house, or make a purchase… so really, the Dark gets the no-power jobs or is unemployed, no help in the financial department, the worst of housing even with lots of money, and only a select few businesses will deal with us. You can’t run for office, or vote, protest, sign a petition, or even be in a Ministry or elected officials residences or workplace. You have to apply to have children and definitely can’t adopt. You lose any privacy rights and wards are placed monitoring your homes for every spell, and letters are even checked… and I do have rights, but our name isn’t what it used to be and I still am denied service at places and will have a hard time getting a job. Dad had to start from the beginning in politics. I’m under suspicion at school, and I have to watch what I say and do. I’m stereotyped before I met most people, and to get into Slytherin is now social suicide. Had you lived in this time, you would have had it made, because you’d get the best of every opportunity. But I digress… you lucked out because there’s no one to attribute to your success but you. you have no parents, so no one can say that they must have done your work for you or it was thanks to them you have your brains, power, and anything good. You have no money, so you can’t have bought friends or the teachers. You have no status to rely on… you lucked out because you are free of any expectations placed on you because of your relatives… you lucked out, because you can be you and no one can say that it isn’t you.” Draco’s voice is intense about this. He sighs. “There’s a movement you should know about. In four years, if you aren’t back, the Dark is talking about finding another person to lead us. It’s only rumors but with how we’re treated, it will be soon and it’s all too likely.”

“Then I should get back. Classes to go to, future of the world to change, and all that, yeah?” I smile at him, especially at his slightly disappointed face when I move away from him. “You’re kind of cute like that… disappointed with me leaving.”

“Just kind of?” Draco teases, noticing how surprised I was I said that.

“Arrogance is not an endearing trait, Malfoy. Remember that.” I tease back.

“That blush is quite endearing.” Draco smirks at me, and my smirk turns into a horrified expression.

“I am not-“

“Look in the mirror.” Draco’s look is absolutely triumphant, and I glare at him, then look in the mirror, and a too-happy version of me smiles back. I study my reflection, and of course Draco Malfoy (I wanted to call him Malfoy, but he wasn’t as bad as the brat in my year) had to be right… I was blushing. Suddenly, I realize what the teasing meant… he trusted me not to harm him, and he knew what I was capable of… my glare turned into a wide smile, and instead of cursing the boy like I had wanted to just seconds ago, I joke along with him.

“You’re right, of course. I’d bang me.” I joke, and he smirks.

“Watch that ego. I can barely fit through the door, and I’m not nearly as much of a narcissist as you are… I think you might get stuck.” Draco’s voice is solemn, and I roll my eyes.

“That’s an old joke for me, and it’s been over fifty years separating us. You need to learn new ones.” I tell him.

“I know pick up lines, but I won’t use them.” Draco says.

“Just one?” I ask, curious.

“It was made fifty years ago… I want to release my basilisk into your chamber of secrets…” Draco’s face turns pink as he says it, and I laugh harder than I have in my life, to the point of nearly passing out from lack of oxygen.

“Where did you hear that?” I ask when I can breathe.

“Uncle Alphard. He’s a wretched pervert, especially when smashed, and he got into the wine at a family dinner… he thought Orion was being too prim and proper and came up with a bunch of dirty lines, and began telling them to everyone, even though I was six. I still remember it… and the duel Abraxas got into with him after he said the one I just told you. Alphard later told me never to say that to anyone, because it would cause trouble for me later on.” Draco says, and my eyes widen.

“Wait. Slytherin’s chamber, which houses a monster only he and his heirs can control, is known as the Chamber of Secrets. A basilisk is a giant and deadly snake that is both venomous and able to kill with its eyes... Slytherin was a Parselmouth… a serpent-speaker, and only speakers can control snakes. So, I used Parseltongue to open the Chamber. But basilisks are big, and people would notice, but Alphard told you to keep the identity of the monster quiet, meaning people don’t know what the monster is, but that doesn’t make sense… surely Dumbledore could piece it together by now. I would have been out of school for decades.” I frown, wondering how this could work.

Draco frowns too, then nods. “You probably covered it up, or you’d be in Azkaban and Hogwarts would have no Mudbloods.”

“But he’s smart enough to figure it out. I may have accidentally let it slip that I speak to snakes, in a moment of excitement. I had no idea that it would cost me…” For the millionth time, I curse myself for the mistake of trusting Dumbledore. How stupid could I get?!

“Basilisks are huge, so it’s not like it can slither through hallways…” Draco sighs, and I sigh too, hating his good point. “Maybe we’re wrong.”

“Or maybe, we need to completely rule it out.” I tell him, and he nods.

“Passageways… there has to be something.” Draco says, determination back.

“Try to find the spots where students were attacked. Ask ghosts about it, privately.” I tell him.

Draco’s alarm beeps at the same mine does, and mine signalled classes would start in an hour,

"Time to go." I tell him, and I fix my hair and robes, knowing my currently disheveled state would be the talk of the castle so early in the morning for all the wrong reasons (not that the right reasons would be any better... quite the contrary), and at least five people would see me. Draco does the same. "How do I get back?"

Draco focuses, and I fly through the mirror again, landing on my side.

"I asked it to make my original desire come true." Draco says.

"Original?" I ask, knowing it meant something new had surpassed it, and Draco says nothing. My alarm beeps again, and I don't miss the relieved look on Draco's face. I can't help but narrow my eyes in suspicion... did I lose a follower? When it's clear he won't say anything, I give him a disappointed look. "Meet me tonight, at eight."


End file.
